November 08, 2006

5-1, I guess she really is my daughter

THE MAIN REASON WHY I SOMETIMES SUSPECT THAT I'M NOT THE PEANUT'S REAL FATHER

The drama! Good Lord, THE DRAMA!

As most of you know, I'm a pretty mellow guy
who believes that there are very few things in life worth freaking out
about. Therefore, I'm willing to give my daughter the benefit of the doubt
because she is, after all, only two years old. However, lately, she's been acting
very diva-ish, a development that I like to blame on Tyra
Banks. (I'm kidding, of course. The kid much prefers watching Jerry
Springer.)

But really, in all seriousness, we're at a point where everything with my daughter has to be done in a very particular way and it's rapidly becoming apparent that I have no freaking idea what that way is. Today, she
threw a total hissy fit and broke down in tears because I had the gall to put green socks on
her feet instead of brown. Bad daddy, bad!

FIVE WAYS IN WHICH MY DAUGHTER IS DEFINITELY RELATED TO ME

1. My stomach and I have a rather tenuous relationship. Maybe it's
from all the scotch and spicy food but my doctor thinks I'm probably
suffering from IBD or colitis (OK, not a REAL doctor. I don't go to those. When I say "doctor," I really mean WebMD.)
As part of my self-diagnosis, I sometimes take fiber pills throughout
the day, a ritual that often leads to periods of flatulence.
Basically, I can get downright farty at times. My daughter, I would
venture to guess, probably farts more than any two-year-old on the
entire planet. Seriously, she blows gas like a bean-eating 75-year-old
lactose-intolerant truck driver. It's completely awesome and I plan on
recording it sometime in the future so I can play it back for her dates
when they come by to pick her up.

2. My beautiful wife good-naturedly chides me for my gift of gab
but it's true. For a cynically jaded New Yorker, I'm genuinely
interested in other peoples' lives and will often talk to complete
strangers for hours. It seems as though my young daughter is becoming
quite the conversationalist herself. Unfortunately, she hasn't figured
it all out yet. Last week, I caught her having some jovially
long-winded discussions with (a) some flowers, (b) the dog, and (c) a
sandwich. Let me tell you something, my friends. There are very few
things cuter in this world than hearing your daughter cheerfully say, "Hi, sandwich! Sit down! I eat!"

3. One of the reasons I quit smoking pot was because I found myself
developing some strange form of OCD. After each hit, I would
immediately have to go clean my hands and wash my face. I'm noticing a
similar pattern emerge with the Peanut. When she first started feeding
herself, she'd usually finish dinner with her face and body completely
covered in food. Now, she insists on having both her hands and mouth
wiped clean after EACH AND EVERY BITE! If even a single morsel of food
gets on her delicate fingers, she immediately looks at me, holds out
her hand, and says, "WIPE!" It's official. I am now my daughter's
personal valet.

4. Despite my innate and well-documented love of television, I was
one of those annoying parents who never let his child watch a second of
television until she was 18 months old. You know, the whole "studies
have shown..." blah, blah, blah. However, what those studies failed to
show was the fact that a freakish love of television is apparently
embedded in one's DNA. For my daughter, TV was like love at first
sight. Every night after dinner, she turns to the BossLady and says, "TV now, mama? TV
ok?" Which is funny because that's exactly what I say to the BossLady after dinner.

5. Speaking of dinner...my daughter and I both eat food like we're
in prison. We crouch over our meals and inhale them as quickly as
possible in case some big guy named Ben Dover comes over and shivs us for
our applesauce. We sometimes even use our utensils to guard our plates. No way we're giving up our chow to any of our fellow inmates unless we get some cigarettes or prison wine in return!

By the way, did you know that Martha Stewart's prison
name was "M. Diddy?" It's true. I read it in Vanity Fair upon her
release from the big house. My favorite quote from the article was
when she was talking about jail: ""I hate lockdown. It's just hideous." Unfortunately, they didn't have any quotes from M.Diddy about what it was like to be thrown in the hole and peed on. Too bad.

By the way, I just googled the term "prison nicknames" and I found this awesome Prison Bitch Name Generator. Mine's B.F. Goodlick. What's yours?

When we told the little monkey that mommy was going to the doctor to check on the then baby in her tummy to make sure it was ok, my 4 year old turned to us without missing a beat and said "Does daddy have to go to the doctor to make sure the beer in his tummy is ok?"

From the first three, I'd have to say both LN and I might be related to you... then the 4th one goes to both PN and LN... 5th one, it's all PN - so we're all related... daddy? Oh, yeah, and my new name is Squeal Piglet.

The diva thing is most likely a two year old thing...then again Maya is almost 5 so I'd better think of a different reason. Maybe they're just born that way. TV rules our house right now. If I say do this or no shows tonight, I get complete compliance. It's almost scary really, but I'm going to milk it for as long as possible. If only I could figure out how to get my husband to do whatever I say so easily.

I recently learned that one way you can tell a student has been smoking pot (aside from the smell and the glassy stare) is when the student keeps bringing his/her fingers to his/her nose and sniffing them. Is that part of being OCD?

She's too cute! I think the Peanut and my bunch of kids (hubbie included) can have a farting contest. I mean talk about SBD (silent but deadly!)on your face while horseplaying! That's worse than the fire cracker ones.

There's a book called "The Napping House" by Don & Audrey Wood, I was contemplating writing a post about it (seriously) and change it to "The Farting House".

And as for my prison's name...I'm embarrassed just writing it down, ready? It's "butt whore". I'm so changing my name!

Glory Hole from GA here - NICE!! Be comforted to know that kids go through phases of HATING to get messy. It's cyclical so this too shall pass - only to come back again around Kindergarten. Also, the whole changing the rules about what's okay is common at this age too. It was only the red shirts for my daughter for weeks and then she changed the rules one day and didn't bother to tell me and proceeded to throw a fit because the new rule was BLUE shirts. Sheesh!

I had the same exact OCD issue with smoking pot too! It got to the point where I would sometimes smoke pot in the bathroom just so I was closer to the sink. I guess that's the definition of a stoner, huh?

You mean it's not a normal toddler thing to sound like a tootin' truck driver? Because, JP and I have been stunned into silence by some of Joles' thirty-second long gaseous interludes. Must be from his side.

I love that she talks to her sandwich. SO CUTE. When my daughter was almost 2, we could get her to do anything we wanted, but our elbows would have to tell her. "Maya, it's time for your nap," I would say. "No, I'm not tired." she would say. "Nap Time for Maya!" the elbow would say, in a high voice and kind of wiggling..."Oh elbow, I love you. OK." she would say, then promptly lay down and go to sleep.

I laughed my ass off at the WebMD reference. My husband refuses to go to the doctor and is constantly diagnosing himself via WebMD. Let's see. In the past 6 months, I think he's contracted Lyme Disease, Legionnaires, Crohns, and Epstein Barr. I'm thinking of cutting off his internet access!

B.F.--
When 3B let go with his first farts, we were sure he'd torn a hole in his diaper. The bonus is that I can blame anything I do on him, since his are often more impressive anyway. He also belches bigger than I do. Yeah, he's mine all right, and we know which parts to blame on me.
Sincerely,
Butt Blaster

Dude, I cracked up when I read about doing things "in a particular way". I feel like I never know when E's going to run out of the room whining, bury her head in the couch pillows and refuse to be spoken to.

I love that age where kids talk to inanimate objects. I think it's the cutest thing. For some time, my daughter used to have long conversations with my umbrella. She'd even kiss it goodnight! I miss those days.

My son acts like Peanut with the hands and TV. Although i never did pot. We don't let him watch much TV but the children's programs at 6 pm every night over here are scary. Both entertaining and educational. And Daniel loves them.

My last observation is that you have way too much time on your hands if you Google "prison nicknames". :-)) My lame company won't even let me look at it, it's blocked.....

I can't tell you how happy I was to read about the Peanut's flatulence. I thought our 2 y.o. daughter was some sort of freak. She farts louder than anyone I've ever heard and I've been embarassed to discuss it with anyone else. Now I guess I know that it's just normal. Phew! Thanks, MD.

The farting! Too funny. My little guy has been a champion farter since the beginning, it is nice to see that he is in good company. Of course he gets it from me, sad to say. At least you don't blame him if someone rounds the corner right after letting one rip at the store. That one will only work until he is old enough to blame me right back.

As for the need to be clean , you could always do what we have done with our two year old son, and give him the napkin to wipe his hand and face with. Or not. He now has to have a clean napkin for each time he needs one, even if the last one hardly has a smudge on it. However, I did read in one toddler book that cleanliness like the Peanuts was an indication that she should be nearing readiness for potty training. So you can say that is a positive.

Think of T.V. as a bargaining chip, one which will work wonders for a misbehaving toddler.

Good god, I'm so sick of the drama right now, too. Yesterday I gave in and let her wear one purple and one blue sock because I didn't care enough to withstand the carrying on. This morning I took off her PJ bottoms, but apparently she was supposed to do that, so she had to put them bck on and then remove them herself before we could begin the undies battle. Thank goodness there are good days, too!

Hey - Just found your blog. I am also 35, I also have a 2 year old daughter, and she also freaks out for no discernable reason and needs her hands cleaned after every bite. "Washy washy" she says. But I'm in Boston, not NYC. We're trying to make baby #2, and it's a freaking nightmare.